


All's Well That Ends Well

by PrairieDawn



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Lighter and Smuttier, M/M, Medical Procedures, T'Pau POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: T'Pau's grandnephew brings friends to what she already knows will be his funeral.  Jim Kirk doesn't believe in no win scenarios, and after today, T'Pau just might believe in miracles.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 99
Kudos: 408





	1. The Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as Prairie gets around to retconning Amok Time (like everyone else ever)
> 
> Dialogue copied precisely, barring the removal of grammatically inconsistent archaisms--until it very much isn't.
> 
> Point of possible interest: While the work more or less stands alone, it is the canon divergence point for Welcome to 1951, and is therefore part of that 'verse's continuity.

"You are pregnant," T'Pau said, upon withdrawing from the young woman's mind. "Your betrothal link with Spock is weak. Why did you not have it dissolved when you began your relationship with this Stonn?"

T'Pring lifted her chin to firmly meet the priestess' eyes. "I calculated that given Spock was over ten years past the time at which his first  _ pon farr _ ought to have occurred, he would remain adolescent in perpetuity, and it seemed imprudent to sever my connection to the S'chn T'gai clan on the diminishing chance that he would ever mature." She didn’t bother to hide the contempt in her tone.

This was catastrophe, made worse by T’Pring’s decision to keep her condition secret until the very morning of what should have been her bonding, too late for Spock to have found another solution to his predicament. "Your calculated risk has placed you in peril. When Spock in his madness senses that you carry another man's child he will kill you, then follow you in death."

"Thus his life is already forfeit.” She cast a sideways glance to Stonn, who shifted his weight slightly in an unseemly nervous tell. “I will do what I must. Perhaps, if we are fortunate, he will succumb before his ship reaches Vulcan."

The unmistakable sound of a transporter nearby told her that the Enterprise had reached Vulcan and Spock had survived to return to his ancestral lands. She meditated on the situation while he and his companions traversed the narrow isthmus of stone leading to the ancient place of mating and death. Three lives were at stake. Her grandnephew would fall to the fires of _ pon farr _ regardless of anything she did. T'Pring's indifference had ensured that. Stonn, she presumed, would be her champion. The young man was healthy, but a sedentary life as a data analyst might not prepare him for the fight of his life. If he lost, then all three would perish in the challenge or shortly after. She could do nothing to change the outcome, so she would best serve the clan by ensuring that the ritual forms were observed correctly, and thus limit further damage to the clan's reputation.

At the sound of the gong, her acolytes began the procession to the arena, T'Pring with a haughty confidence that most likely hid her true emotions. As T’Pau was carried into the arena, she saw Spock and his companions, all in their Starfleet uniforms. Not only had Spock chosen not to arrive dressed appropriately, he and his companions had not even worn their dress uniforms. Humans. Of course, he would bring humans to this place. 

Spock approached and knelt before her. She reached for his mind, sealing away her own turmoil, and felt the fire burning within him. As it was with T'Pring, the link that was supposed to ensure his survival was withered and faint, but as with T'Pring, another vied for its place. This bond was bright, but unconsummated, its character poised between a familial bond and a mating bond. She questioned it, but Spock was either unwilling or unable to identify it.

When she released him, she cast a disapproving glance at the humans ogling the proceedings. Their presence was doubly unfortunate, as they would witness what was likely to be an ugly and brutal event and might even carry such knowledge to their superiors. "Spock," she said. "Are our ceremonies for outworlders?"

"They are not outworlders. They are my friends." Before she could press him further, he added, "I am permitted this."

She bid the humans approach. Their expressions betrayed bemusement and no small amount of concern. "This is Kirk," Spock said, introducing the one in gold. His commanding officer, it would seem.

"Ma'am," Kirk said, bowing.

Spock neglected to name the other--an oversight that spoke to her of the advancement of his condition. "And you are called?" she prompted.

"Leonard McCoy, Ma'am." Their greetings were not precisely proper, but for humans they were, so far, behaving themselves.

"You name these outworlders friends. How do you pledge their behavior?"

"With my life, T'Pau."

What little remained of it, she thought. "What they are about to see comes down from the time of the beginning, without change." She continued to face Spock, but her words were intended as a caution to the humans. "This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul." She allowed the weight of her knowledge to color her next words. "This is our way." She pointed to the gong in the center of the arena. " _ Kalifarr _ ."

T'Pring took her time following Spock to the gong. " _ Kalifee! _ " she said, stopping him from striking it.

Spock turned from his bride and approached T'Pau, his steps gone heavier and slower. The guardian barred his path. He let the hammer fall to the sand and allowed his faltering steps to carry him to the edge of the arena. He is dead now, T'Pau told herself. Only his body does not know it yet. 

The one called Kirk looked after him, clearly weighing whether to go to his friend. "What is it? What happened?"

"She chooses the challenge," T'Pau told him.

"With him?" the other demanded, pointing to Dinek.

"He acts only if cowardice is seen." She ought to find the need to explain to these humans tiresome, and yet she found herself wishing to delay the inevitable. Such sentimentality only prolonged Spock's suffering. "She will choose her champion."

"Spock," Kirk began. It was clearly costing him to keep his distance. 

"Do not attempt to speak at him, Kirk. He is deep in the  _ plak tow _ , the blood fever. He will not speak with thee again until he has passed through what is to come." He will never speak again, she thought. This Kirk was unlikely to accept Spock's death with any dignity. "If you wish to depart, you may leave now." 

Kirk knew a dismissal when he heard one. He flattened his lips into a false smile--feigning emotion, such a human thing--and said, "We'll stay." And there it was again, that sense of reaching, of connection, even though Kirk hadn't turned to look at Spock again. 

T'Pau calculated a seventy-eight percent chance that this Kirk was the one with whom Spock shared the bond she had perceived. This was a critical piece of information. It was unlikely Spock’s death would kill him outright, but there could be damage. Another life T’Pring’s behavior might ruin. "Spock chose his friends well," she told them. Perhaps their presence might be some limited comfort.

The one called McCoy interjected, "Ma'am, I don't understand. Are you trying to say that she rejected him? That she doesn't want him?"

How like a child the one in blue was. "He will have to fight for her," she explained. Spock had a potential bondmate, here, in the arena. If she knew how the human would respond, she would ask to touch his mind, to see whether he was aware of their link. She quieted her mind's seeking for an unlikely reprieve for her grandnephew. Sarek and Amanda should not have tempted nature by bringing to life a son who would live only to die in fever and shame. "T'Pring, you have chosen the challenge. Are you prepared to become the property of the victor?"

"I am prepared."

"Spock, do you accept challenge, according to our laws and customs?" She received no answer, but expected none. 

"T'Pring, you will choose your champion."

T'Pring began her recitation, walking with slow, measured steps toward T’Pau. "As it was in the dawn of our days, as it is today, as it will be for all of our tomorrows, I make my choice." Her eyes slid sideways to Stonn, then away. She stepped two steps forward, pointed at Kirk, and said, "This one." T'Pau schooled her features to stillness, aware that she had briefly betrayed surprise on her face.

Stonn broke form to stand beside T'Pring. "No, I am to be the one. It was agreed."

"Be silent!" For this fool the woman would condemn Spock to death? His blood might be thin, but she followed the careers of the youth of her clan enough to know the young man was brilliant. Why would she choose Kirk--unless perhaps to shield Stonn? 

Stonn, unbelievably, kept talking. "Hear me, I have made the ancient claim. I claim the right. The woman is--"

" _ Kroykah _ !" she shouted before he could speak further. If T'Pring's pregnancy were revealed prematurely, it might send Spock into a killing frenzy that could cost still more lives.

Stonn submitted, fortunately. "I ask forgiveness."

T'Pau recalculated the possible outcomes. Kirk would fight, or he would not. In the unlikely event that he fought and won, Stonn would be spared, and the worst Kirk might do would be to take T'Pring with him to attempt to charge her with a crime. Vulcan would demand her return, and she would be free to continue her relationship with Stonn. If he lost, T'Pring's life would still be forfeit, but Stonn would be safe if he could be persuaded to abandon her. None of this took into account the link the two men shared, though.

"Kirk," she said. "T'Pring is within her rights, but our laws and customs are not binding on you. You are free to decline, with no harm ." Tradition demanded that her decisions favor the woman--it was the entire purpose of the Kalifee, to protect women from the depredations of men gone mad. But this one's blood did not burn. At worst, by falling to Spock he could bring the toll of this day to four and bring the scrutiny of Starfleet down upon Vulcan. She stepped down off the dais, her twice-broken hip catching so that she almost stumbled. Kirk reached out to catch her and for a moment, they touched. His emotions crashed against her, fear and love and longing. He would not leave Spock. That much was clear.

She reached the dais. Spock approached to stand before her. "T'Pau," he said, his voice rough with effort.

"You speak?"

"My friend does not understand." The son of Sarek and the human, Amanda stood before T'Pau with green flushed cheeks and fever bright eyes. He should have been completely lost to the  _ plak tow _ , more animal than man, and yet he stood before her and begged for the life of a man he had the audacity to name  _ t’hy’la _ in her presence.

It would be best for all of them, even for Spock himself, if Spock was the one who failed to leave the arena alive. "The choice has been made, Spock. It is up to him now," she told him. His human blood had given him the power to resist the fever, if only for this moment. It was just possible he had the presence of mind to allow the fever to take him rather than fight.

"He does not know. I will do what I must, T'Pau, but not with him." The words forced themselves from his throat with great effort as he struggled to form coherent thoughts. Behind him, Kirk was stripping off his uniform shirt and rolling his shoulders. "His blood does not burn." If one of these men killed the other here, it would be an abomination. "He is my friend." Again, not the casual human word, but a far more ancient claim.

"It is said," she told him, "Thy Vulcan blood is thin. Are thee Vulcan, or are thee human?" Once before, an insult to his mixed heritage, his human mother, had led him to defy all convention. She knew that she was pushing him toward his own death, but considered a slim chance his human blood would save him from the  _ plak tow _ as it had granted him this moment of sanity. 

Spock glanced for a moment at his captain, standing shirtless and nearly preening in the morning light. Desire flickered across his features. He licked his lips and continued. "I burn, T'Pau. My eyes are flame. My heart is flame. You have the power, T'Pau. In the name of my fathers, forbid! Forbid!" 

In the moment in which the two men’s eyes met, T’Pau sensed the fire between them. Was it possible that Spock was, in fact, more Vulcan than she had thought possible? "But for whom do you burn?" she said, her voice going more gentle than she had intended.

"T'Pau, I plead with you. I beg!" His eyes grew wet, a human thing, tears shed in emotion.

She calculated the odds of survival for Spock, Kirk, Stonn, and T'Pring given the few options open to her, and a way forward at once became clear. "The insignia of your rank and station do not belong in this sacred space."

"I do not understand," Spock said.

"Remove your garment," she clarified briskly. He stripped off his uniform shirt and undershirt, puzzlement on his face. "It is decided." An acolyte quickly tied the purple sash about Spock's waist.

"Kirk," she said. "Make your choice. If you too reject him, he will surely die." Her acolytes made no sign that they had noticed her alteration of the language, though whether that was because the challenge itself was so seldom chosen or because they maintained excellent control she did not know. T'Pring, however, started in confusion.

Kirk stepped forward, a soft smile on his face, his limbs loose, his palms held out in front of him in what she was sure to him was a placating gesture, but in Vulcan society bordered on obscenity. Spock's eyes widened at the display. Kirk bowed to her, then turned back to face Spock. "I accept."

Her gaze touched Stonn and T’Pring, Kirk and Spock. “As it was in the time of Surak, when brothers in arms met on the field of battle." It was clear Kirk had made his decision on how to proceed, but for Spock's sake, she included as many hints as she could work into the ritual. Perhaps he would hear and understand. "They will meet without weapons. The contest will be won or lost--" she took a couple of steps toward Spock so that she spoke nearly into his ear, "Hand to hand."

Both Stonn and T'Pring blushed emerald. 

"It has begun. Let no one interfere.” Kirk approached Spock, hands open and nonthreatening, while Spock stared at him, hunched over his steepled fingers. At any moment, Spock could choose to attack, and given human fragility, it would likely be over in seconds. In a moment they stood, centimeters apart, Spock still except for his labored breathing and a tremor in his hands. Kirk raised his hands so that they hovered over Spock’s own, then paused to look into his eyes. When Spock failed to respond, he rested them gently over Spock's. Spock flinched violently and took a half step back, but Jim held on, bowing his head over their clasped hands.

Spock threw back his head and cried out. Kirk murmured softly, "It's all right, it's just you and me, I want you, I need you, I--burn for you," while maneuvering Spock's stiff arms apart. He brought Spock’s hands to rest on the bare skin of his waist and held them there before running his own hands up Spock’s arms with firm strokes, more calming than teasing.

McCoy realized what Kirk was planning and exclaimed, "Dear God, Jim's trying to seduce him! Can he do that?" He seemed to be asking if it were possible, not if it were permitted. 

She answered both questions with a single answer. "It is the only way all four leave this place alive. If he succeeds."

Kirk wrapped his arms around Spock's shoulders to draw him close and press their mouths together. T'Pau had seen humans kiss thus. Spock finally responded, turning his head and opening his mouth to welcome Kirk. He pulled the human flush with his body and stroked the broad back with spread and clutching fingers.

"Ma'am?" the other human said.

"Be silent." 

McCoy pressed on regardless, while Spock's hands roved his chosen mate's back and dug in under the waistband of his pants. They would have been better served by the accessibility of Vulcan wedding robes. He turned to face T'Pau. "The ground. If Spock puts Jim down on it, he'll have second degree burns in seconds. Do they have to, ah, finish the job here?"

"They will not leave the arena until the  _ plak tow _ is resolved. One way or another." Serious injury to Kirk might jeopardize the bond. She considered solutions as she realized that the man speaking to her was not a scientist colleague of Spock's as she had thought, but a healer of a sort. And three steps ahead of her.

"I need to collect a couple of items from the ship. May I transport up and back?"

"Very well, Healer. Be quick." The healer walked to the edge of the arena and disappeared in a shower of gold.

McCoy was gone two point four four standard minutes and returned with a bundle under one arm. He glanced over to where Kirk was diligently fellating Spock while Spock joined their minds to establish the bond. He ducked his head, strode quickly over to the patch of ground nearest the dais, and spread out two layers of silver insulating blankets, then waited nearby with his eyes averted until Spock lifted Kirk in his arms and lay him out on the covered ground. At that moment McCoy darted in with one quick movement to lay something small beside the two, then stood and strode directly over to where T’Pring stood with Stonn. He was out of order. T’Pau ought to stop him. She really ought to. 

McCoy pointed a finger at T’Pring. “Those two men have offered their lives for each other and for me more times than I can count. How dare you put them through this for your convenience?”

She looked coldly past him.

“I asked you a question. I deserve an answer. They deserve an answer!”

T’Pau stood and made her way slowly to T’Pring. Her hip was acting up more than usual. “Answer him,” she commanded.

T’Pring’s eyes remained fixed on a spot in middle distance. “I saw an opportunity to eliminate the risk to Stonn. In the event that Spock was killed, Kirk, being human, would have no need for me and I would be released from my obligation. In the event Kirk lost, I calculated a seventy percent chance Spock would release me himself.”

“Well.” McCoy tucked his thumbs into his waistband. “I commend your logic. Very logical, there, Miss T’Pring.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. Dinek stepped up beside him, scythe in hand. McCoy’s posture firmed, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. “Excuse me, I am talking.”

T’Pau dismissed Dinek with a gesture.

McCoy continued. “It’s too bad logic is only as good as the principles that underlie it. Enjoy, Stonn. I hope you don’t get in the way of whatever she wants next.” He turned away from both of them and held out an arm for T’Pau to take. “Ground’s a little uneven, ma’am.”

She calculated the response that would indicate precisely the amount of contempt she wished to convey and turned her back smartly on the couple, placed her hand lightly on the healer’s arm, and allowed him to support her in her walk back to her seat.

Once there, he asked, "How long are they going to be like this?"

T'Pau considered the healer’s question, determined it to be concern for his companions' health rather than idle curiosity, and said, "As their Healer, thee may be told." She continued, less formally. "Spock will obtain respite if they are able to forge a bond. When they complete this coupling, I will verify that the bond has formed, then you may all return to your ship. They will require three days of seclusion for the bond to settle."

McCoy bowed again. Thank you, ma'am." He continued more quietly, perhaps to himself, “‘Bout time those two idiots got together.”

Judging from the enthusiasm of their movements and the volume of their cries, the coupling was near complete. In another minute they fell silent, save a faint rustling. Spock disengaged himself from his bondmate, the purposefulness of his movements making it clear that the fever was at bay, and pulled Kirk into his arms. The human lay limp and unresponsive in his lap. Spock stroked at his face and hair. "Jim! Jim, awaken!" He lifted Kirk and stood, carrying his exhausted mate to Leonard McCoy. They were both naked, save their boots and the sash still tied about Spock’s waist. "Doctor, I need you!"

The human healer ran his scanner over Kirk. "He's overheated and hypoxic from the exertion, and his blood sugar’s low." He turned away to open the black case he had brought with him. 

Spock though no longer a danger, still was not fully himself. He watched warily while McCoy administered two ampules of medication to the captain's throat. "Please," Spock said, his voice strained. "Tell me he will recover. I am afraid."

McCoy reached out to place a hand on Spock's arm, an ignorant gesture that T'Pau expected to earn him a violent response. Spock, however, tolerated the contact, and McCoy's voice was soft and slow when he responded. "He'll be fine. I gave him tri-ox and glucose. Just one more thing and we can take him home. T'Pau?"

T'Pau stood to spread her hands over Jim's face and Spock's. The bond burned, stable, golden and strong, even as the human lay unconscious in his bondmate's arms. She withdrew. "It is done. You may return to your ship. And Spock,”

Spock held his bondmate tighter, protectively, but he paused to hear her speak. “Yes, T’Pau.”

“Call your mother.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stonn creeping away with T'Pring on his arm. 

“I am gettin’ too old for this," McCoy told her.

T’Pau inclined her head in acknowledgment, though by what rights the human called himself old she couldn’t fathom. McCoy flipped open his communicator. "Scotty, three to beam directly to the Captain's quarters. Don’t ask.” The three men dissolved into the air. 

Neither luck nor miracles were logical, and yet the probability of events unfolding as they had today was vanishingly small. The last time a challenge had ended in this way was before T'Pau's birth. She had followed Spock's scientific career with some interest, despite her distaste for Starfleet, and noted that improbable events seemed to cluster about him and his close associates with unusual regularity. It was a fascinating phenomenon, perhaps one that warranted greater study. Perhaps another day. Ancient rituals they might be, but the recordkeeping associated with their aftermath was modern, extensive, and would almost certainly lack an appropriate space to record today’s outcome with any precision. 

She was getting too old for this.


	2. As You Like It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim debriefs Spock over what happened on Vulcan.
> 
> Chapter for justalittlegreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, justalittlegreen requested birthday smut. And here it is.

The cool air of the ship brought Jim back to his senses. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, he had a pounding headache, and his backside was on fire, but the feel of Spock's arms cradling him and the warm, spicy scent of the skin of his chest was heavenly. 

"Lay him right here, Spock," he heard Bones say. 

Spock set him down and backed away. Jim felt the sting of a hypo against his neck. He opened his eyes to see Spock pressed against the far wall, still naked save the purple sash and looking vulnerable, almost broken. Bones tugged off Jim's boots and socks and patted the bed. "Spock, it's all right, come on over. Sit on the bed. Help me turn him over to stop the bleeding."

Jim tried to speak, but his parched throat wasn't yet up to it. Spock perched stiffly on the edge of the bed and Jim flipped his palm up for the Vulcan to clasp. Spock stared at it as though he might have forgotten what hands were, his chest moving with fast, deep breaths. Bones reached around Spock to move Jim and Spock slapped his hands away.

"Spock, if you don't want me to touch him, you're going to have to turn him and pack the wound yourself."

Spock's hands, still fever hot, gently arranged him into the position Bones requested. One braced his hip. The other pushed something inside him, first gingerly, then with more force. Jim found himself digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from crying out. A thumb brushed his temple and the pain faded, though the Spock's contrition was almost worse.  _ I am sorry to have caused such harm to you, ashayam. _

“That’s good. Keep going until you’ve used the whole roll.” Bones got up to pull a bottle of electrolyte replacement solution out of Jim's cupboard. He returned and wrapped Jim’s fingers around the bottle. "You could have warned me what you were planning," he said, pulling out his scanner to check Jim's vital signs. 

Jim sipped at the liquid at first, then finished the bottle in a few thirsty gulps. His voice cracked a little when he replied, "I didn't want you to try to talk me out of it." 

Bones allowed himself to smile. "What makes you think I would have? I mean, I saw a side of you today I'll never unsee, but I gotta admit you play to your strengths." He put on his business face. "Spock, can you hold off on a repeat performance for a while without hurting yourself?"

The packing stopped, to be replaced with the soothing sensation of a warm, wet cloth cleaning stickiness off his legs and back. "How long must we delay?" Spock asked. 

Bones paused to consider. "Jim's temp's still thirty nine point four degrees, his blood sugar's low, and it looks like he’s lost a quarter liter of blood--maybe as much as half a liter. If he eats and drinks, you should be," he sighed, "up for  _ gentle _ activity. Jim's going to need a go with a dermal regenerator and twenty-four hours to heal before you're cleared for intercourse." He stood to go. “I’ll be back in, say, four hours to do the repair.”

"Doctor," Spock said as Bones reached the door.

"Yes, Spock?"

"I fear I recall very little of what occurred. Did I--compel the Captain to mate with me?"

Bones stopped in the doorway with a wry half-smile. "Not hardly. Why don't you ask him what happened?"

Horror and shame flickered across Spock's face. "I do not know if I wish to be enlightened."

Bones shook his head. "If either of you need me, just call. I'll be in Sickbay." The door slid shut behind him.

Spock stood as soon as Bones was gone, disappearing into their shared bathroom. Jim tried to sit up to follow, but found himself suddenly dizzy and shaking. He rolled back onto his side and curled up, blowing through sudden nausea. He should have sipped his drink, rather than gulped. Spock returned to kneel on the floor beside him, having put on his silky black Vulcan robe. "I have harmed you," he said.

"You did what you had to do. Just--vigorous sex and a mind meld in forty-five degree heat didn't agree with me." He picked up a second bottle of fluid replacement solution, still trembling. "I thought I was going to lose you today." He reached out to Spock, but drew back when Spock flinched. "How much do you remember?"

Spock closed his eyes for a moment. "I remember heat, and need. I remember you holding onto me, guiding me into--into your body. I remember--I remember our minds becoming one, but I do not remember the act of melding with you."

Jim sipped the second bottle. Sweat rose up on his skin and ran down his arms and face. He closed his eyes to find the marital bond, not sure what it was supposed to feel like or even whether he would be able to sense it at all. Something ashamed, sad, but hopeful caught at his mind, as though he had been affected by a poem whose words he couldn't quite recall. He took a moment to dwell on the feeling and it grew, took on a sort of shape and weight. "Can you feel that?" he asked.

Spock, whose eyes had slipped closed, nodded. 

"Could you get my robe from the hook in the bathroom? I don't trust my legs yet."

Spock unfolded himself from his posture on the floor and returned a moment later with the robe. "I took advantage of you."

Jim turned to face him and pulled him down to sit beside him on the bed, then gripped his arms. "No Spock, never. I only wish I'd been able to be sure that this was what you wanted."

"The circumstances were less than ideal," Spock agreed.

"Lie with me for a moment." Jim tugged on the robe and arranged his pillows. The bedding was scratchy with grit and sand they'd brought back from Vulcan. "Right here."

Spock hesitated.

"If you need your space, that's fine, but you are welcome beside me."

Spock slid into the remaining space on the bed. "Has the ship left Vulcan space?"

Jim sighed, but allowed Spock to steady himself with the familiarity of ship’s business. "I'm sure Scotty and Sulu have things well in hand."

"I have been absent from the labs for over a week."

"Lim and Petrucci have everything under control. Lim has some fantastic tracking data on microdebris in the warp corridor."

"She is quite proficient at finding productive scientific studies even in the least inspiring environments." Spock's face turned thoughtful. He shifted position slightly to rest his hand on Jim's abdomen, then began to trace circles with the tips of his fingers. Jim wasn't sure he was aware he was doing it. His abs twitched at the attention. 

"Spock?" he said.

Spock snatched his hand away. "My apologies, Captain."

"Jim," he corrected. "No need to apologize."

Spock cleared his throat. "I feel the need rising. It would be prudent for me to meditate until I can regain control."

Jim's cock twitched in anticipation. "Only if that's what you want. Bones leave you with a scanner?"

Spock reached across Jim's body to locate the scanner, then ran it over him. "37.6 degrees."

"I think that's close enough," Jim said, and allowed his own fingers to tease their way across Spock's chest. 

Spock caught his hand, stilling it. "I will survive without satiation, now that we have coupled once. It is not necessary for you to accommodate my need again."

"Is that what you want?" Jim tried to keep his disappointment from reaching his face despite the futility of hiding anything.

"It disturbs me that there is so much I do not remember. I find I do not trust my prior actions." He stood, took a couple of paces away, and faced the wall. "And I do not know whether you are being completely honest with me about them."

"Does it feel like I am lying?"

"Self delusion remains a possibility." His shoulders dropped. "I understand, I believe, why T'Pring would not desire a bond with me. My mixed heritage, my choice to enter Starfleet, my lack of emotional control all fail to recommend me as a potential mate. What I find disturbing is that she considered my life to have so little value that she did not inform me of her decision before the fever was upon me."

Jim stood carefully. The vertigo and headache were fading, banished by time, fluids, and Bones' hypos. "Spock."

Spock turned to face him. "Does my life have so little value, Captain?"

Jim smiled. "I think perhaps I should tell you what happened down there on Vulcan. My side of the story. To jog your memory."

"That would be a kindness."

"Stand right there." Jim turned so that they faced each other a couple of paces apart. "Once T'Pring chose me to challenge you, I thought maybe I could knock you out and take you back to the ship. It was crazy of me, I know I can’t beat you in a fair fight. I saw you go up to T'Pau. You were upset. Do you remember any of that?"

"Some. I asked her to spare you. I," he cast his eyes down. "I begged."

"Why?"

"The challenge is a fight to the death, Jim. T'Pring would have had me kill you."

That he hadn't known. The possibility that Spock would kill him by accident had occurred to him--would he have agreed had he known the danger he was in? Spock licked his lips. "You took off your shirt--I presume because of the heat."

"And the moment I did you looked at me. Up and down. Hungry, and not for a fight."

"I regret my--"

Jim raised a hand to cut him off. "This is my story. And as soon as you did that I knew I didn't have to fight you--I didn’t have to lose you to that woman if I could just make you understand how much I cared for you. Wanted you." He stepped a little closer. "Needed you." He took a moment to shrug the robe off his shoulders. "But I knew you might attack me, so I had to take it slow. I held my hands out like this," he turned them palms up and walked toward Spock until they were close enough to feel each other's breath. "You were holding yours in a meditative posture, fighting for control, I think. Go ahead, it will be easier if I show you."

Spock tipped his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Jim steepled his fingers. "Like this."

Spock copied the gesture. Jim licked his lips and Spock's parted slightly. His dark eyes were wide and curious, though he was still holding himself stiffly. "So I just put my hands over yours, like this." He slid his hands, fingers spread, over Spock's steepled ones. The contact between them tingled, full of heat and feedback. He felt an echo of hands on his own skin. "And I kissed each," he drew the tips of Spock's fingers into his mouth and explored them with his tongue, "and every," He moved on to the second pair of fingers and Spock moaned, "finger. Just like that. Do you want to hear more?"

"More, please, Jim," Spock breathed.

"You were still all stiff, so I just took your hands," he took it a little slower, a little more thorough this time, separating Spock's hands and lacing them with his own, sliding their fingers together until he reached his waist and set each hand firmly just above his hip bones. "And then," he stroked up the finely muscled arms, "I kissed you. May I kiss you now?"

"Please," Spock said, his voice growing rough.

Jim teased Spock's mouth open with lips and tongue, tasted, savored and explored. Spock seemed uncertain what to do for a moment, but then mirrored Jim, catching on perhaps through that soft overlay of thought and sensation flowing between them. Jim could feel the tip of Spock’s returning erection brush against his belly. "Do you remember what I did next?"

"Show me."

Jim kissed his way down Spock's neck, stopping to suckle when a particular spot earned a moan of pleasure. He went to his knees, continuing to worship with lips and tongue down his sternum, pausing to undo the tie on his robe. "I couldn't ask properly last time. Do you want me to kiss--and lick--and suck--" he punctuated his words by pressing his lips to Spock's trembling stomach and thighs, "your beautiful cock?"

There was a long pause. Jim sat back on his haunches. Finally, in a hoarse whisper, Spock said, "Yes."

"In case you're wondering, this is what I was doing when you melded us." It was the closest to an invitation he felt he could say out loud. He took Spock in hand first, warm and solid and green tinged, stroked until his erection was high and firm, then wrapped lips and tongue around the tip and began to work his way up and down the shaft. The sensation reflected into his body and he felt his own cock respond to the phantom attention. 

Fingertips settled onto his face. There was a moment of anticipation, a held breath, and words not spoken aloud.  _ Just so? _

_ Yes.  _ An answer and a plea. He fell still, but did not release Spock from his mouth. The vertigo caught them up as sweet and heady as wine. There was a moment of blissful floating in which thought and feeling passed between them, Jim's joy mixing with Spock's, though Spock's remained touched with shame and doubt.  _ You are in pain. _

Jim dismissed the observation, focusing instead on his relief that Spock had survived and was here, with him, safe and loving him. _ You are marvelous, glorious, beloved, _ Jim sang to him in his mind where it would be so much more difficult for Spock to deny.

The fingers moved away, but the connection lightened only a little. Spock lifted Jim up and placed him on the bed. It was, admittedly, much more comfortable than the hot sand and gravel on Vulcan, even if they had brought half the arena with them on their skin. Jim wrapped his arm around him and said, “Do you want to hear the rest?”

“It would put my mind at ease,” Spock allowed.

It was going to be difficult keeping his mind on the retelling while Spock’s hands traced patterns on his skin. “Well, you lay me down, just like this, and you held me and started to move--and I could feel your frustration. You wanted more. You needed more--you needed to be inside me and I needed you inside me so I took your hand in mine and,” he lifted Spock’s hand to his lips and drew the first two fingers into his mouth to stroke with his tongue in a lasciviously wet kiss. “It was the best I thought I could do at the time.”

“Then I took those fingers and I put them right where they needed to be. Right--here.” He licked his own finger and reached between Spock’s legs to find the little pucker, moving in teasing circles. “Now I don’t know where you keep your prostate and I don’t intend to ask Bones--”

“Please. I do not wish to discuss the good doctor at this time,” Spock said, his voice catching on the last word when Jim pressed the center of the little hole and poked just the tip of one finger in. “That is a strange sensation.”

“Do you like it?” Spock closed his eyes. Jim kept his finger in place and stroked Spock’s perineum with his thumb. 

“I--believe I do. Yes.”

Jim stroked while he spoke. “I just needed you to get me as wet as we could manage--spit doesn’t make great lube, but it’s better than nothing. You were impatient, bucking against me and so hard and oooh I knew you were going to fill me up so, mmmm--” he closed his own eyes to bring the memory to mind as clearly as he could, of pushing Spock’s fingers inside, licking his own palm, the metallic taste of dust and grit, the feel of Spock’s burning cock in his hand, pressed up against his opening. “And just like that, you pushed your way in.”

“I injured you. Badly.”

Jim didn’t deny it. “You did. But you found that sweet spot and you carried me along--I could feel everything you felt, my body tight around yours with every thrust.” Jim moved his finger in and out while he spoke, feeling for just the right--

“Oh!” Spock gasped. “There. Right there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he purred, working his finger in tiny circles while his, God, his lover--his husband’s mouth hung open and his breaths came in soft gasps. He reached blindly for Jim’s face and Jim caught his hand, settled it at his temple, and focused on his memory.  _ It’s your memory too--you should have it. You were everywhere all at once, your cock inside me and your hands on my face and in my hair, your mouth on my neck, marking and biting and when we came--it felt like, just for a moment, we burned a star. _

_ I would take my time with you this time,  _ Spock said.  _ Now that I have the presence of mind to do so. _

Spock's touch was methodical, slow, and relentless. He tested Jim's responses, seeking out the most pleasing by reflected sensation and Jim's moans and involuntary movements. He wrapped on leg over Jim's body, holding him in place, pinned his arms over his head, and ran his free hand over the muscles of his chest and abdomen. Jim squirmed in spite of himself at the combination of delicate strokes and firm pressure. Spock reached for the little bottle of lubricant in the bedside drawer--how did he know it was there? Jim wondered and was rewarded with a bubble of mirth. Long fingers wrapped around them both, the lube still a little cool in his hand.  _ I am sorry--if we had been more aware of ourselves-- _

_ You feel amazing. This is perfect, just like this. _ _ I'm yours for the taking. _

_ You are mine _ , he agreed, pulling their bodies flush together, and began to grind slow, cautious circles against him, moving his hand in time with his hips. Jim worked a hand free and wrapped it around them both, setting his thumb into the sensitive hollow just below Spock’s ridges so that Spock gasped. Heat built between them, helped along by mental feedback so that they had to slow their pace to make it last. One last sweep of Jim's thumb took them over the edge and they filled the space between them, molten gold pouring from their centers to their toes, then Spock wrapped his arms around Jim again. "Are you well?"

Jim pressed his nose to Spock's chest and inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Are you?"

"I believe I better understand the depth of your regard."

Jim chuckled his agreement, then grimaced at the sand that had worked its way into his creases. "Shower with me," he suggested.

Spock moved to sit and made a face. "A most excellent idea, especially given that I do not trust you to remain standing."

They stumbled toward the shower. "We're going to need a bigger bed if we're going to be doing this every night for the rest of the mission," Jim said. 

At the words "every night," Spock's eyebrow lifted skyward. "I do believe you are correct. Come, let me wash you, and then we will retire to my quarters, as my bed is devoid of abrasive particulates."

Jim snorted a laugh, grabbed him by the hand, and dragged him into the bathroom. "Don't mind if I do."

  
  
  



	3. Much Ado About Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy performs embarrassing medical procedures and gives Spock even more embarrassing advice.

Leonard McCoy hit the panel outside Jim's quarters. No response. It was possible the two of them had fallen asleep after their ordeal, but even so it would be best if he got the dermal regen going before scar tissue started to form. He tried again with no success. There were some things he didn't want to walk in on. "Computer, where are Captain Kirk and Commander Spock?"

"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock are in Commander Spock's quarters."

Leonard hefted his bag. "Open the door to Captain Kirk's quarters, medical override." The door slid open. As long as they weren't in the room, he could clean up a little so as not to embarrass Jim's yeoman more than necessary. He scooped all the bedding into a pile and shoved it down the laundry chute, then collected their clothes and stuffed them down after. The autosweeper could get the sand now that the floor was clear, and Yeoman Cira could finish the rest of the room now that the incriminating evidence was out of the way. The rumor mill was already churning out half a dozen conflicting stories, none of them true, and Leonard had no intention of adding fuel to the fire before Jim and Spock were ready to announce their change of status.

He walked through the shared bathroom, finding it relatively tidy, and knocked on the door to Spock's quarters. "It's me," he said, loudly enough that at least Spock should hear.

"Just a minute!" Jim shouted. The sound of shuffling footsteps preceded the door opening. Jim stood there in his boxers, smiling a little awkwardly. He gestured Leonard into Spock's quarters and led him to Spock's bedroom alcove, his cautious, slow movements clearly showing that the morning's activities had begun to catch up with him in earnest. Spock lay prone on the bed, propped on his elbows, a datapad in hand.

"Jim, you'll need to take out the gauze and clean up before I can do the regen." He handed Jim the enema kit.

Jim sighed. "You going to be okay while I'm out of the room?"

Spock looked up from his work. "How long will you be gone?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. And if you need to check on me I'll leave the door unlocked."

"That is acceptable,  _ ashayam _ ."

Jim disappeared into the bathroom.

"So, what are you working on?"

"Jim and I are preparing a plan for the quartermaster to reconfigure our living area. We will place a bedroom and meditation space in my quarters, and an office and sitting room in Jim's." He turned the datapad to show Leonard the plan.

"You're making me want to get a roommate."

"Really, doctor?"

"No. I hate people." Spock raised a dubious eyebrow. Leonard continued. "Put that down a minute. We need to talk before Jim gets back. First. Fever gone? You feeling more stable?"

"I am. I continue to desire constant physical contact with Jim and frequent sexual release, but I am able to think clearly and have not suffered violent impulses." While Spock answered, Leonard took a reading with his scanner and collected a small blood sample for analysis.

"Second. Jim and I have been friends for a long time. You know, probably even better than I do now, how deeply and completely that man falls in love, and how fast. He's given you his heart."

"His heart is not the seat of his regard for me, but his mind."

"Shut up. What I'm trying to say, is you break his heart, or the part of his mind where he keeps his love for you, and I will make your life hell."

Spock looked at the bathroom door. "In the event I were to harm Jim again, any vengeance you could exact would be superfluous."

"That goes for the both of us. I guess I just want you to understand that I love Jim, probably as much as you do--even if I'm not interested in fucking him."

Spock's face twitched at Leonard's choice of language. He put down the datapad and sat up. "Doctor, I have questions I wish to address prior to Jim's return. I apologize for any discomfort they may cause."

Leonard straddled the desk chair. "Shoot."

"My father spoke to me of the Time when I was thirteen years old. His remarks on the subject were brief and uncomfortable. Our relationship had already become strained, and I did not wish to ask my mother questions about Vulcan sexuality. I had also hoped that such complications would never become an issue for me. Hence."

"Jim can teach you what you need to know, I'm sure."

"There were a few matters on which he was ignorant and did not wish to address with you himself, and about which you might have some insight."

"I don't know any more than you've already told me about Vulcan sexuality."

Spock, again, had to look away to collect himself. "I find myself dwelling upon the desire to experience the sensation of Jim's--phallus--inside my body. I am aware that same sex couples exist on Vulcan, but I do not know if that particular activity bears additional risk for my species."

"You want to know if it's safe for you to bottom."

"Yes."

"All right, well, that's not something I've really thought about. Let me think it through." He pulled out his own data pad and called up a recent anatomical scan. "Your internal architecture isn't that much different from a human's. You've got some promising nerve bundles in the right locations to make it worth doing--really the biggest difference is your desert adaptations. Your system is much more efficient at removing water from waste, so you're going to be both tougher--which is good--and drier, which means lubricant is going to be even more important for you than for Jim. So I'd say take it slow, don't skimp on prep and you should be fine."

"That is gratifying to hear, doctor."

"I never want to discuss that again with you unless you get hurt, you hear?"

"Agreed."

The door to the bathroom opened and Jim emerged with a towel around his waist. "Okay, so how are we going to do this?" he asked.

Leonard had been thinking through his strategy since he'd left them in Jim's room hours ago. "Spock, scoot all the way up to the top of the bed and make a vee with your legs. Jim, I want you to lie down in his lap with the top of your head just under his chin and tuck your legs up. Spock, you can help him hold his legs in position. It's important that he stays as still as possible."

The two of them arranged themselves while he pulled out the wand regenerator, surgical lubricant, and a local. He settled himself at the other end of the bed and pulled on gloves, hissing in sympathy when he got a good look at the damage. "There's at least one third degree tear in here, maybe two. I'm giving you a local anesthetic. Little sting, right now." He reached back to place the hypospray near the base of Jim's spine. "Now Spock, I got a care sheet from T'Pau with some aftereffects to watch for. If you start feeling possessive, like you want to rip my head off, let me know right away."

He was hoping that keeping the two of them in close contact during the procedure would help. He got the dilator in and had completed the worst of the repairs when Spock muttered, "Doctor."

"Mmm-hmmm?" he muttered.

"Your proximity to that which is mine is causing distress."

"Yours, is it? What do you think would help?"

"I am uncertain. How much longer?"

"Ten minutes."

"Unacceptable."

"Spock, I have no interest in Jim's asshole. None." At that moment, he must have hit something that twinged, because Jim twitched and winced. Spock growled. "I can stop now, but he'll be out of commission for a week. Maybe two."

"Unacceptable."

"Do I get a say?" Jim interjected.

"No," Spock and Leonard said at the same time.

Jim rested his hands over Spock's, stroking gently. "Spock's upset because I'm attracted to you."

"You were attracted to Horta. You're attracted to everybody."

Jim didn't deny it.

"Spock, nothing is ever going to happen between Jim and me. Never." He kept working as quickly and precisely as he could. "Jim is my, sorry to say this kid, but Jim is like my baby brother. I could no sooner have a relationship with him than I could with my sister."

Spock's brow was furrowed as though he were trying to parse his statement. "Brothers."

"Brothers," he confirmed. And because he was too preoccupied to shut his fool mouth, he continued, "Same way as I feel about you."

Spock didn't answer for long enough that Leonard finished the last of the second degree tears and placed the wand regenerator. "You can put your legs down," he told Jim, wrapping the used equipment up for cleaning and tucking it into a biohazard bag. "You've still got a unit up there, so don't get up."

"Doctor," Spock said.

"What is it?"

"I am gratified that you see me as a brother. Your behavior is often contradictory, enough so that I have not been able to characterize our relationship."

Leonard had to agree with him. There were so many ways in which they rubbed each other the wrong way. Spock's denial of the emotions he so clearly had and discounting of Leonard's emotions as a valid moral compass was one. He supposed his own orneriness was another. Spock probably had issues he hadn't disclosed--and there was another thorn in his side, that the man was so damn cagey--and Leonard knew he sure as hell had issues that he planned to take to his grave, thank you very much. "Well, I ain't about to change any time soon." 

Spock was getting handsy already, tracing little loops on Jim's stomach that were getting closer and closer to the towel draping his waist, so Leonard decided a strategic retreat was in order. He turned to go. "Jim. Leave the regenerator in until it chimes. And have a good honeymoon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the terminally awkward part of this fic.


	4. Measure for Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Jim put McCoy's advice into practice and, later, announce their change of status to the crew.

"Spock, you all right?"

"I am satisfactory."

Behind him, Jim chuckled at his understatement. Spock clutched his pillow. He had thoroughly cleansed himself internally prior to this latest adventure but ceded the task of preparing his body for penetration to his bondmate, who had more expertise in such matters.

Over the last couple of days, his need had softened in intensity, such that he could have meditated away the remainder of the urge to mate with ease. At the same time, Jim's need to couple had, if anything, increased. It was fortunate that Spock could enjoy intercourse even when not in rut. He could not imagine Jim returning to the enforced celibacy of his past year while remaining in close proximity to a partner.

He could hear Jim rubbing his hands together rapidly, though to what purpose he was uncertain until Jim's fingers spread his cheeks and circled his hole with a thumb coated liberally in warmed lubricant. The pressure increased, gradually, until the muscle released and the thumb pressed inward. The circles continued, along with what felt like more purposeful movements that moved the slick liquid further inside him. The sensation held a fascinating newness, one of many he had experienced over the last three days as his body learned unaccustomed functions.

He had experienced the illogical desire to collect sensory experiences for their own sake before, the brittle coolness of mineral deposits, the springy softness of velour..."Spock?"

"I was characterizing the sensation."

"Of course you were." Through the press of Jim's naked body against his, one hand gripping his side while the other worked contradictory sensations into his body, the thread of Jim's thoughts wove into his mind. _I will wreck him. And this time it will be all me._ The promise brought an involuntary shudder and Jim pushed once against him before returning to his task. "For now, all I'm trying to do is train this muscle to relax for me." He switched from thumb to a slick finger and pressed in deeper, stroking the inner wall in search of the points where his internal testicles nestled close and the arc of nerves connected to the base of his _lok_. "So many good spots to choose from. You're so lucky."

Jim's finger found its mark and Spock found himself wanting to push back into the pressure. His breath hitched and Jim sparked warm with anticipation. "You like that?"

"It is...most pleasing."

"Mmm, you're still speaking in complete sentences. Can't have that." He leaned forward so his cock nestled between Spock's cheeks and blew cool air onto him from the small of his back to where his finger was buried inside, then slid forward again, slowly, to trace the same path with his tongue, all the while stroking the sensitive spots. His own _lok_ responded, slipping free and extending, seeking contact and friction.

Jim removed the finger and replaced it with his cock. "The nice thing about you fucking my brains out over the last few days is I can make this last." He reached around to wrap warm fingers around Spock's _lok_ and pushed his own inside agonizingly slowly, stretching a few millimeters at a time. It took four point two minutes for him to reach the depth previously occupied by the finger, and at that moment, the exquisite sensation of stretch and fullness, just as Jim's ridge reached all three tender points at once caused him to cry out in shocked pleasure and buck into Jim's hand. "Ah! Jim! Jim!" he breathed. 

"More?"

"Yes, I, Jim..." _Exactly where I want him_ , Jim thought. The first strokes were long and slow, allowing time for them both to savor the friction between them, Jim stroking Spock's _lok_ in time with his thrusts. Spock realized that he could no longer separate himself from the pleasure filling him, from his growing need, feeling almost as he had when the fever took him. The realization hit him with a jolt of fear.

Jim stopped, panting through his own desire. _Okay?_

Spock's head cleared and he was once again fully aware of himself. _Yes. Continue._

Jim picked up the rhythm again, slow and deep, then harder and faster. Spock, reassured by Jim's bolstering presence, surrendered to overwhelming pleasure within and without, the rhythm filling his mind until there was room for nothing but bliss. He pushed back into Jim's strokes until Jim found release, the warmth filling him and bringing him to his own crest. They moved together for a few more seconds, wringing as much sensation out of each other's bodies as possible while coming down from their peak. Spent, Spock flipped the towel Jim had wisely put down beneath them to the floor and relaxed, sliding down onto the bed with Jim wrapped around his body, lips at his temple, his neck, his shoulder. They breathed together for a while--Jim might have dozed.

"I would consider that a successful experiment," Spock noted some time later, still lying under Jim.

"I agree. But I think we might need to repeat it. In order to collect a robust sample size," Jim teased gently.

"We must delay such experimentation for a later time, as we are expected on the Bridge in one hour."

"Right. Duty calls." Jim rolled off him to collect his clothes and head for the shower.

*

Spock admitted to a certain trepidation as he walked the halls of the Enterprise at his Captain's side. Their relationship had been legitimized by the filing of administrative forms with the Admiralty, the resulting shocked disapproval smoothed over somewhat by Jim's emergency call to his parents. Spock had embarrassed himself thoroughly in front of his mother when, still compromised by hormone surges, he interrupted her interrogation of Jim by impulsively and destructively removing his shirt so as to increase the available surface area for skin to skin contact.

It had seemed logical at the time.

His equanimity had returned to him and his mind was clear if occasionally tending to musings that he had not entertained previously. Jim indulged in clasping his hand during the turbolift ride, but released him before the door slid open onto the bridge. Sulu, Uhura, and young Riley were at their stations. Dr. McCoy had propped himself on the back of Jim's chair, arms crossed, looking smug.

"Shouldn't you be in Sickbay, Doctor?" Spock asked pointedly.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," the doctor said, smirking.

"May I have everyone's attention, please," Jim said. "I hear the rumor mill has been on overdrive for the past several days, since our emergency diversion to Vulcan. I would like to dispel those rumors. First, the medical situation that required our unscheduled detour has been resolved and the Commander is in excellent health."

Tension visibly decreased in Uhura's shoulders.

"The First Officer and I were neither on a secret mission nor injured as a result of one. His father did not suffer a relapse and require a transfusion of his blood. Spock was not charged with a crime, tried, convicted, or otherwise engaged with Federation or Vulcan law. Wait, that's not exactly true." He took three steps forward and held up his hand in the traditional _ozh'esta_.

Uhura put her hands over her mouth and squealed.

Spock stepped forward with the gravitas the moment merited and completed the gesture. "Due to cultural imperatives I am not at liberty to discuss, I found myself in urgent need of a life partner. The Captain and I consequently elected to formalize and extend a relationship that has de facto defined our lives for quite some time."

Uhura leaped out of her seat and ran to Spock, stopping just short of hugging him to clasp her hands together and bounce happily. "I'm so happy for you two!" She then turned with a more mercenary expression to Sulu. "You owe me. One square meter in the arboretum. Strawberries, chilies, cherry tomatoes." She ticked off the produce on her fingers.

"Lieutenant Uhura, gambling is--"

"To be split fifty-fifty with the happy couple." Triumphant, she returned to her seat with a whirl of her skirt, crossed her legs, and put in her earpiece.

Beside him, Jim grinned, his joy pouring out of him like sunlight. He took his seat at the center of the bridge, Spock falling in behind him to rest one hand on the backrest. Jim flicked the ship wide comm. "May I have your attention, please. It is my pleasure to announce to you that Commander Spock and myself have married according to the Vulcan custom. An informal reception will be held tomorrow in the main rec room." 

"Captain," Sulu said briskly, "I hate to cut the congratulations short, but Admiral Komack made it clear you were to beam down to the reception as soon as possible."

Spock nodded gravely. "Shall we, Captain?"

Jim groaned, perhaps more theatrically than warranted by the situation. "Lead on, Mr. Spock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments build community. Let me hear your voice!
> 
> Spot the exact moment that the continuity diverges from canon.


End file.
